


The bridges that keep us apart

by michonnesboys



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Daryl Dixon, Domestic, Edging, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, OT3, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Coital Cuddling, Rixonne, Teasing, Top Michonne, Vaginal Sex, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25987438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michonnesboys/pseuds/michonnesboys
Summary: There’s small plot here but I’m writing this to feed my love for Daryl/Michonne...
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Michonne, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes/Michonne, Rick Grimes/Michonne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	The bridges that keep us apart

When Daryl set foot in the house, it was well into the afternoon. He was drenched in sweat from the unforgiving heat and irritated about it. It had been blisteringly hot for weeks now and the hunter was becoming fed up. Excessive heat meant excessive complaining from the mix-matched assortment of people from different communities as they worked and if Rick Grimes wasn’t so hellbent on upgrading the bridge, Daryl would have fled the scene the moment the idea had been brought up. Like it hadn’t already been life- threatening enough when they built it in the first place.

He was exhausted, and his clothes were clinging to him in the worst ways. He was just happy to be home. He stopped at the threshold to kick off his ratted boots, deciding life would be a lot easier if he didn’t get scolded by Michonne after not seeing her for a couple of days. He was already going to hear something in response to him showing up without Rick. The man was going to work himself to death. The irony in that thought was almost enough to fog his head with grief as he thought about how Rick had in fact almost died in the creation of said bridge. 

Daryl padded his way through the house on sock-clad feet, following the sounds of soft humming and the echoing knocks of a knife on a cutting board. Michonne was making dinner, he confirmed the suspicion as he turned the corner into the doorway. He leaned against the entryway, taking a moment to watch the woman work in the domestic setting. He always found it odd, the life he, Michonne, and Rick had now. It was almost too clean, too weird. Still, Daryl watched the katana-wielding woman work effortlessly with a measly dull kitchen knife, slicing through half an onion while holding a small tune Daryl had been forced to listen to on old supply runs with Rick. 

“Are you going to say hello, or are you just going to stare at me all night?” 

She set down her knife and turned so her back was leaning against the counter. Regalness seemed to surround her like a thick mist even in her underdressed state. Her eyes raked over him, examining for any injuries or something to worry about before she cracked a small relieved smile.

“Don’ stop on my account,” Daryl waved a hand at her, pulling a thumbnail to his lips to chew on. 

The beauty only scoffed and strided towards him, filling his space with a sweet and earthy citrus scent that Daryl could only connect to oranges and vanilla with the low linger of the onion she had been cutting. Her hands were cupping his face in a heartbeat, soft yet calloused hands smoothing his facial hair down. Her thumb grazed over his lips before she covered them both with her bigger, plusher ones. A bit of his stress lifted with the kiss. He dropped a hand on her hip and held her to him, even after their lips parted when he was resting his forehead onto hers, breathing her in.

“You’re sweaty..,” she pulled a face, slightly nudging him away from her, “and where’s Rick?”

Daryl pushed away the yearn for her to be pressed against him for a bit longer, instead falling into his laid back persona. He shrugged lamely.

“Dumb prick’s still out there. He said he’d be back later tonigh’. Told me to tell ya not to miss him too much.”

“Asshole,” she rolled her eyes but Daryl didn’t miss the small pout she supported at the news. 

“Where’s Carl and the lil asskickers at?”

Michonne seemed to actually take a moment to think before she answered, “I can hardly keep track of Carl nowadays. I mean he’s gotta be like what...in his twenties. That’s crazy to think about.”

“Yeah. Swear just yesterday he was just a snot nosed brat sneakin’ around, stealin’ my gun and getting lost in the woods.”

“I know he went to Hilltop...likes to help with the trades. It worries me how much he’s gone nowadays. I just want to have my eyes on him constantly.”

Daryl nodded, giving an affirmative grunt.

“And then you have Judith..runnin’ around, getting into business she really shouldn’t be and RJ just follows right behind her. Rosita’s got ’em, her and Gabriel. So it’s just me.”

The archer leaned in for another quick peck, Michonne’s hand was firm on his chest to stop him from pressing against her in his dirty clothes. 

“Empty house don’ seem like such a bad thing to me.”

“Oh I’m sure it doesn’t, but I might have to force you to sleep outside if you don’t go take a shower.”

“Tha’ a threat,” he lifted his chin a bit in a false challenge.

“More like a passive aggressive order.” She reached forward and slipped the crossbow from his shoulder, “And don’t forget to wash your hair. Who knows what’s living in there.”

And even as she bad mouthed the hair that was on his head, she still reached up and combed her fingers through it, brushing some from his face. She sighed softly when she could finally get a good look at those piercing blue eyes. She placed a kiss onto the bridge of his nose.

“I missed you...glad you’re home.”

•

When Daryl finished his shower, he noted how he did feel better, even if only slightly. It was something about the water running on his back at temperatures just shying away from boiling that eased the tension between his shoulder blades. He had washed his hair like he was asked and threw on some worn pajama pants and a grey tank top. It still felt out of place for him to do these things but he was trying his best to dip his toes into this lifestyle. Being inside of this house, to Daryl, felt like waiting for something horrible to happen. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep so he paced the halls, guarding the kids’ rooms or he’d sit on the porch steps and smoke a cigarette. Sometimes Michonne couldn’t sleep either and she’d come sit with him, but most times she’d simply slip out the house with her katana. Dayrl picked up on what she was doing out there pretty quickly and he started going with her. Just keeping watch, making sure she was safe, and maybe even killing a few walkers himself to keep that animalistic rush brewing just beneath the surface when playing happy Alexandrian citizen became too terrifying. 

When he made it back to the kitchen, Michonne was leaning over the island, absentmindedly twirling spaghetti onto a fork with one hand and trailing her finger down a page of notes with the other. She was wearing a robe that barely brushed her mid-thigh, soft, toned legs crossed over one another. Daryl walked up behind her, resting his chin onto her shoulder. The woman didn’t even flinch, no matter how quietly Daryl walked, it was hard to sneak up on a woman who had ears as functional as a bat’s. She only hummed in approval as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, drawing circles over her belly.

“How was the shower?”

“I’m clean...so it was alright.”

She shook her head and turned in his hold, holding the forkful of food up to him. The smell was enough to bring forth a growl from his stomach, unaware of how hungry he had been until just now. He parted his lips and let her feed him, lost in how deep of a brown her eyes really were, how she never shied away from eye contact like he did. Even now he chose to dart his eyes away every now and then. She fed him a few more forkfulls before slipping out of the way and handing him the plate. She began to pack up her notes for further community integration, storing them away in a drawer. Daryl went to stuffing his face which was so characteristically him that Michonne giggled to herself while pulling out a wine glass from the cabinet.

“What’s so damn funny,” he forced around a mouthful of food.

“You. Would you like some wine?”

Daryl took a second to swallow before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, shaking his head, “Nah. You an’ Rick can have that fruity mess. Makes my damn head hurt.”

Michonne pursed her lips and handed him a napkin, “More for me then.” She rummaged through the fridge for a moment before pulling out a bottle of ‘fruity mess’, popping the cork and pouring the rest of its remnants into her glass.

There were people in Alexandria who made pretty decent wine, at least in Michonne’s opinion. Daryl prefered stuff with more kick to it but beggars couldn’t necessarily be choosers in a time like this. She sipped on the deep red liquid as Daryl finished up his food, sucking the sauce from his fingers unashamed. Maybe in other circumstances, Michonne would have called him gross but after days of not seeing either of her men, she was sure she could find him sneezing sexy right about now. She walked past him to head towards the living room, sneakily rearing her arm back to slap his ass possessively before she left. 

“Dammit woman!”

“Not my fault you have a cute butt, Dixon.”

She didn’t stay to hear whatever he mumbled under his breath, going to take her seat on the couch. She took another swig of her wine before glancing at the wall mounted clock. A slight wave of worry washed over her as she thought of Rick, wondering exactly what time he was implying when he had told Daryl he’d be home later. She snapped out of it when Daryl walked back inside with the box of unfinished bolts he had been making for his crossbow, along with a pocket knife to sharpen them. The man sat at her feet, leaning back against the couch between her parted knees. Michonne slid her fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness in it, tucking some behind his ears. He rested his head on the inner part of her knee and started his work of sharpening the bolts, eyes drooping in awe at the careful way the woman above him played in his hair, leaning into her touch whenever she scratched her blunt nails along his scalp. 

“I think Judy took one of my knives,” he spoke merely to stop himself from dosing. Michonne’s been known to lull him to sleep with her restless playing in his hair.

“Wouldn’t be surprised, she takes after Carl’s old childish habits I’ve noticed,” she sat her half empty glass on the table beside the couch. 

He blew a puff of air and went on to the next bolt, losing his train of thought when Michonne’s newly free hand came down softly on his shoulder, sliding down his chest lazily. 

“Needs to keep her hands to herself,” he chewed on his bottom lip as Michonne leaned further into his space so her hand had better access to roam, stilling a middle finger over his clothed nipple. His breath caught in his throat as she circled around the hardening bud.

“Hmm...Are we still talking about Judy? Or is it my hands that are really the ones bothering you?”

He shook his head and went back to his arrows. Michonne watched as he scraped his knife against the wood, playing like he took little to no notice of the digit circling around one of the more sensitive parts of his body, like he wasn’t starting to shift around in his spot. Michonne only took his silence as a challenge and tightened the grip she had in his hair, pulling his head back towards her. The suddenness of it mixing in with a newly forming dull ache in his scalp forced an embarrassing needy sound to leave his lips. She was leaning down, covering his mouth with hers again. She watched him blindly set his knife and bolt in the box, nudging it away from him. Michonne pinched his pebbled nipple between her thumb and forefinger, swallowing the groan of approval he gave. 

She broke the kiss, feeling proud at how his eyes darkened now. Angry dark blue waves crashing to the tide behind those big moon-like, blown out pupils of his. Pretty salmon pink seemed to be bleeding out onto his cheeks as he blushed at her intense gaze over him. Getting him like this, shrinking under her in straight admiration and lust was like a major stroke to her ego. 

She released her hold on him, impressed with how quickly he turned around. He was on his knees now, one hand placed on her thigh for balance while the other was brushing aside her locs to cup her neck and pull her into a real kiss. She felt his little show of dominance as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, starting to stand from his place on the floor. Michonne simply pushed him back to his knees. Daryl could have fought back, but it was clear that he didn’t want to. He was too stubborn to admit that though and instead just gripped onto her thigh. She parted from the kiss, both of them zoning in on the line of saliva connecting them. Her mouth was sweet with wine but Daryl didn’t mind the taste when it was coming from Michonne’s lips. 

“Fuck- can I?,” he made a weak hand gesture towards her robe, words almost slurred. 

Michonne nodded, resisting the urge to play dumb. She sat up straighter and let Daryl’s hands work at getting the knot to her robe untied. His hands stuttered when he realized the only thing under her robe besides a tank top was a pair of black panties. They weren’t anything special but the sight of her thighs was one of the world’s many blessings. He tore his eyes from the skin there when Michonne lifted her shirt just enough for her breasts to fall free in a subtle bounce. Every time he laid eyes on them it seemed like the first time, salivating at how velvety they looked, still slightly engorged even after all this time after RJ’s birth. 

Daryl ran his hands up her sides, not missing the way she shivered at the feather light touch. He dragged them up until he could cup her chest into two greedy handfuls, sucking one of her deep mocha tinted nipples into his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed. Maybe it was to avoid looking Michonne in the eyes, but she didn’t comment on it, only cradled his head as he swirled his tongue around the mound, pushing his head closer to her. His free hand was massaging and roughly petting at her other breast while he suckled away. He was content like this, although his knees did ache from his place on the floor, but he was too far gone to truly pay attention. Besides, the praise Michonne was purring to him was enough reward on its own. 

He let the areola from his mouth with a pop, admiring his work. She slipped the robe from her shoulders and pulled her shirt completely off as Daryl gave the same attention to her other nipple until both were erect and staring back at him.

“You’re good at that,” she said into a kiss, their teeth clashing as if she were kissing him for the last time, sucking the breath from his lungs just to hear him gasp when they broke free.

His mouth always tasted of stale cigarettes but she had grown so attached to the taste that kissing Daryl was addicting in its own way. Kissing Daryl was like taking a risk, like running into busy traffic and narrowly escaping death. Reading Daryl’s moods were easiest through a kiss. 

“Chonne..,” his voice was uncharacteristically gentle and low as Michonne moved her kisses to his jaw and down to his neck, his facial hair tickling her nose. 

Michonne licked along his pulse, stopping to suck a bruise in plain sight, marking him. She was always extra possessive after being separated from Daryl or Rick for long periods of time. Daryl only dug his fingers into her thigh.

“Michonne,” he tried again, the tremble in his voice was still there but he was firmer in this call.

“Tell me what you want, hun. Hm?” She was breathing her words against his neck, going to blow cool air over the fresh hickey she gave him. 

Daryl had trouble with this part, saying what he wanted. He had trouble speaking up, voicing his desires when they were romantic. Michonne vowed to break that habit, even if it was slowly. Daryl was rolling the words he wanted to say over and over in his head and somehow there was always a gruff version of that voice, calling him ‘Darlina’, calling him pathetic, telling him that he shouldn’t be sitting on his knees in front of a woman. He instead looked down to her lap, a calloused palm trailing up her thigh until his index finger was running along the waistband of her panties, ready to dip inside but Michonne swatted his hand away and hooked a finger under his chin. She held her finger there until he lifted his eyes to her’s, tutting at him softly. 

“Closed mouths don’t get fed. So tell me what you want,” her features were soft but they were stern and Daryl was well aware she could wait him out if she needed to.

His eyes darted from hers then to the wall behind her before he parted his lips and spoke.

“Wanna taste ya.”

He internally cringed at how rough and almost angry the words seemed to shoot from his mouth but Michonne smiled at him anyways. He had done well in her eyes. Michonne leaned back in her seat, pores seemingly oozing dominance and femininity. There was a slight nod of affirmation from her and that was all it took to get him to move. He carefully peeled her underwear down her legs, dropping them to the floor. His mouth dried at the sight of her parting her toned legs for him in a way that was so confident that he was becoming self conscious. Daryl wasn’t a religious person but if you framed this image of Michonne, splayed out on the couch like a five star buffet, he’d fall to his knees before it repeatedly. 

Approaching her was easy, he had done it a million times it seemed. Every time felt like a privilege, a blessing. He started in by kissing up a thigh, kneading the skin as he went. Her skin was soft and supple under his own, as pure and clean as the finest silks Daryl would hear rich people go on about on the television when he was a kid. Touching Michonne gave Daryl the mindset of someone holding an injured dove. It was pathetic how he touched her like it burned, too afraid to dirty her up with the filth that had been embedded in his own skin for years. He mouthed kisses onto her thigh like someone who didn’t deserve it, and in his eyes he didn’t.

He was snapped out of his trance by Michonne’s impatient squirming. The woman may look like honeysuckles and fresh morning dew but she was all fire beneath. The nudge of her heel against his thigh was a silent code for him to cut the gentle act and give her something primal, to give her something that was solely and perfectly Daryl Dixion. So his hands dug in, and his teeth joined the mix as he kissed her skin, nipping and marking her as she did to him. But where she left one bruise, he littered her thighs with them. He was staking his claim over and over until Michonne’s reaction went from impatience shifting to praising sighs. 

The higher he scaled the more potent the warm aroma of her sex became. He longed for that smell to perfume him so he could carry her with him wherever he went but for now, just being allowed to breathe it in was enough. When Michonne felt the first breath of air against her womanhood, she reflexively bucked her hips, mewling at the faintest touch of Daryl nose brushing against that bundle of nerves. 

“Fuckin’ hell…,” he mumbled to himself like a prayer over his food before diving in with a flat-tounged lick over her entirety, drawing the first real moan out of her for the night. 

She had already been so wet before he even touched her so Daryl’s introduction taste had been nothing but her mellow-sugared tang. He only wasted a second to savor it before going back in, tongue licking between her folds. Michonne hiked a leg onto one of his shoulders, equal parts pulling him in and giving him better access. He held onto the thigh that was hooked on to him, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh there. 

“I missed your mouth, D.” Her voice was so relaxed as she said it and the man devouring her had to bite back the urge to say it had only been a few days as his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile against her pussy.

He instead focused on running his tongue over her in graceful figure eights like he knew she liked. He barely even acknowledged how her hands had found his hair once again, pushing him into her, beginning a slow grind against his mouth as if he were nothing more than a mere toy to her. His head was growing dizzy and drunk with her scent and the muted taste of her juices that were now wetting his beard. Every time his nose bumped against her clit she’d pour out breathy sex sounds that sent all of Daryl’s blood straight to his dick. So he sucked the slowly swelling bud into his mouth, humming at how she squealed and dug her nails into his scalp. 

It was all a sugar rush for him, so easily lost in the idea of making her feel good, sometimes he forgot to register himself. But as much as he enjoyed her soft hands, he also enjoyed the hands that pulled his hair and clawed her nails into him. While his mouth was busy caring for her clit, Daryl was prodding her entrance with his middle finger. He almost moaned at the sticky warmth waiting for him there but he composed himself and slid the finger in easily. He knew her body like the workings of his crossbow so pulling the right strings came like muscle memory to him as he curled his finger in and out of her. 

One became two quickly, changing the angle of his arm so he could hit that spot inside her. It earned him a rude tug to his hair and a curse word slipping from her lips but that was all the encouragement he needed to keep stroking his fingers against that wall of nerves. His fingers were thick and stretched out her heat well, every time he was knuckle deep inside her she thought about how Rick’s fingers were longer but both were equally amazing. The woman was looking down at him, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth at the sight of the big-bad Daryl Dixion at her will. His eyes were hidden under his too long bangs as he ate her hungrily, his hair becoming damper with concentration sweat. 

The pressure was building in her lower stomach, climbing that rocky mountain of pleasure until she was tittering right over the edge. What finally pushed her over was Daryl looking up at her as he started to piston his fingers inside of her. Watching her come undone had him moaning along with her as her eyes rolled back, thighs clamping against the sides of his face. Her breast jiggled as she spasmed with her orgasm, her mouth parted in a silent cry.

Her chest heaved as Daryl gently cleaned her mess with his tongue, swallowing her down until she started to push him away from sensitivity. Michonne sat up, lowering her leg from his shoulder and joining their lips to taste herself. She giggled against him, unable to stay serious when Daryl’s face was sticky and chilled with her slick.

“The hell you laughin’ at now?” He sat back to narrow his eyes at her.

“I can’t help it, you’re wearing my cum like a face mask-,” Michonne burst into a fit of laughter, bringing a smile to Daryl’s face. 

He stood from his knees with a groan and a pop, nudging her back onto the couch and stealing a kiss. He had her giggling up another storm when he lifted up, laying back with her perched onto his lap. She quieted down, laughs melting into a sigh as she felt how hard he was under her. She gave a swirl of her hips, drawing a groan from him.

“Oh Daryl, I think you’re overdressed for this occasion,” she hummed and patted the pudge of his tummy.

“Thought you liked all the attention on ya?”

“Only when it’s coming from my favorite men..,” she stood up, sliding the pajama pants down Daryl’s legs. He kicked them off while she straddled his thighs. 

He watched her throw her locs over her shoulders before rubbing a hand over the prominent bulge in his briefs. Yet again the air was filled with those whiny noises Daryl only produced for his lovers, mainly Michonne. He was pinned by her weight but his hips still managed to twitch at her touch. The friction was wonderful after neglecting himself to please her. They both paused at the sound of the front opening and closing, an evil smirk spreading Michonne’s lips at the echo of Rick’s keys dropping into the dish.

“Please tell me that’s spaghetti I’m smelling-,” Rick’s thought stopped dead in its tracks as he rounded the corner, taking in the scene before him, “Oh.”

He locked eyes with Daryl over Michonne’s shoulder, catching the sight of him blushing right before Michonne looked back at him.

“Welcome home, sheriff.”

“It’s becoming pretty clear to me now..that you two can’t be left alone,” he hummed in false disapproval while moving closer to them.

He took a seat on the coffee table in front of them, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his sweat-soaked shirt. He cracked a smile as he started to unlatch his watch from his wrist, “Well go on.”

Michonne went back to her task at hand, pulling Daryl from his confinements. When the cool air touched his erection, he hissed. He was buzzing with two sets of eyes on him now. Daryl cursed when her hand wrapped around him loosely, jerking him off in this slow, torturing pace. When his hips began to buck and chase after her warm palm, Rick placed a hand on his pelvis to keep him still. 

As Michonne played with him, Rick was leaning over to catch Daryl in a deep kiss. He could taste Michonne on his lips. 

“Ah..that what you two were up to? Sorry I missed the show. You always did look hot between her legs.”

“Maybe stop working on lost c-causes then,” Daryl snapped back, stumbling over his words when Michonne gave a sudden flick of her wrist.

Rick held his gaze before looking back at Michonne, “Tighten your grip.”

The beauty followed his lead just this once, tightening her grip on Daryl’s shaft, throbbing at the low groan leaving his throat. She thumbed the vein that was right below his tip, precum dripping down to her hand.

“Shit-“

Rick peppered the hunter’s cheek with kisses, nipping at the shell of his ear. He licked over the darkening mark Michonne left, debating if he wanted to make one of his own.

“This has gotta be the reason you wanted to leave right,” Rick teased, “Nah I get it, brother. Our girl is tempting.”

With that statement he shifted so he could lock lips with her instead. Daryl twitched at them making out over him. Rick's hands were coming up to fondle at her breasts as he had done earlier, pulling those girly sounds from the assassin. All the while Daryl was so close to completion it almost hurt. And maybe it was his breathing that gave him away but Rick turned and squeezed a hand at the base of Daryl’s dick to stall his finish.

The look on his face was of the sort that could kill as Michonne was busy trying to hold back a smile.

“Prick,” Daryl muttered.

“That was for last time. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

Last time referring to Michonne and Daryl edging Rick for hours just to prove the simple fact that that ex cop cries during (and after) sex. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t.”

Michonne shook her head at their banter, moving Rick’s hand away, “Be nice, Rick. He took such good care of me while you were playing construction worker.”

She scooted up, lining Daryl up with her entrance. All three of them seemed to be holding their breath as she sunk down on him, leaning her head back to relish in the feeling of being connected with him. She gave a roll of her hips, making Daryl bite down on his cheek to stop from thrusting up into her reflexively. Michonne had to adjust, she always did, sitting there for a moment just to get used to the stretch. 

She rose up then dropped back down, both her and Daryl moaning simultaneously. Michonne placed her hands on his chest, gripping the collar of the shirt he was wearing as she began to bounce herself in his lap. There were many words to describe what Daryl felt when he was deep inside that tight, wet warmth of Michonne’s, but euphoric was the one that came to mind. It was almost too much, Michonne’s strong thighs cradling him, hips rolling every now and again. Then there was Rick at his neck, sucking his own signature next to Michonne’s. 

It was nearing an end embarrassingly fast yet in his defense neither of them could last too long when Michonne climbed on top. He was grabbing her hips to get her to slow, trying his best to honor the unspoken rule of ‘ladies first.’ Looking up at Michonne was an honor of its own but allowing her to use him as her personal thorne always made for a fun time. 

“I’m close-,” he breathed. 

There was a fine sheen of sweat coating both of them; the room had heated since they started and created this claustrophobic space around all three of them. Rick reached a hand towards Michonne, using his thumb to work her clit. She gasped at the rushed roughness of his worn hand, too blissed out to even think about if he had cleaned his hands at all since he got back. She reached her climax soon after, her walls clamping down on Daryl as she came for a second time. She was beautiful like that, letting Rick help her off of Daryl and curl up to the archer’s side. It was Rick who finished him off, taking him into his mouth like it was nothing and jerking him off until Daryl came with a choked out grunt. 

Michonne and Rick shared a kiss along with the salty taste of Daryl before each of them let him taste as well. The woman tucked her face into his neck with a tired yawn. Daryl only wrapped a lazy arm around her, a small smile touching his lips.

“You two are not going to sleep like this.” That was Rick, reminding them that they were covered in sex.

“Then clean us off big guy, because I’m not moving.”

Daryl snorted at her and Rick only shook his head but he did go and get a clean wet rag to wipe them down and even threw a blanket over them both but by then Michonne had drifted to sleep, probably the fastest she had slipped in days.

“Could take ‘Chonne to bed and help ya out,” Daryl mumbled at how Rick was hard in his jeans but the man only shook his head ‘no’. Always being one to put himself last, especially when it came down to Michonne and Daryl. 

“Let her sleep. She might actually sleep through till morning. She needs it, you both do.”

Daryl nooded, he was tired himself, “She did make spaghetti by the way.”

“Then I’ll eat it after a cold shower.”

Rick chuckled lightly, turning to take the towel with him to the laundry room but Daryl spoke again, stopping him in his tracks. 

“You stayin’ for a bit...or you leavin’ out again tomorrow?”

“I’ll stay. The bridge will be fine without me for a week at least.” He didn’t turn around when he said it and Daryl didn’t say anything else but there was a mutual feeling of joy in the air.

Being apart was taxing on all of them. Rick was just glad to be home for now at least. And when the sheriff finished his shower and dinner, he rolled out a blanket beside the couch and slept there to complete the trio.


End file.
